Before A Fall
by Ani-maniac494
Summary: Patrick Sheppard had never put much stock in the old adage about pride being the deadliest of all sins. Outcast tag.


Title: Before A Fall

Summary: Patrick Sheppard had never put much stock in the old adage about pride being the deadliest of all sins. Outcast tag.

Spoilers: Major spoilers for Outcast, and some small references to Rising I and II.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Stargate Atlantis, but…Sheppard's missing? Again? Why would you think _I_ had anything to do with that? *shifty eyes*

A/N: Outcast is one of my favorite episodes, and I loved the look it gave us into Sheppard's past. John's father really intrigued me, and I couldn't help wondering…just what was Patrick Sheppard thinking before he died, and how did he push John so far away? That's when this bunny snuck up on me, lol. :)

I hope you'll enjoy it, and of course, please let me know what you think!

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**Before A Fall**

Patrick Sheppard had never put much stock in the old adage about pride being the deadliest of all sins. In Patrick's opinion, that was only true if your pride wasn't warranted.

And, a certain amount of pride _was_ warranted when you'd created a successful, multi-million-dollar company from the ground up. Was it any wonder that he wanted his sons to follow in his footsteps? They were both very intelligent young men, quick and clever, and they'd both inherited the innate Sheppard charm and wit. Together, his sons would be a force to be reckoned with. David had a keen business sense, and was unfailingly responsible. And John? He was incredibly good with numbers, and he had sharp instincts.

Patrick wanted the absolute best for them, and he'd started planning their futures early. His wife, Margaret, rest her soul, had just smiled, and shaken her head. _"You can't plan every detail of their lives, Patrick_," she'd said gently. "_We're only given so much time on this Earth, and everyone has to decide for themselves how to spend it."_

Patrick felt a familiar pang of grief at the memory. Margaret's own time on Earth had been far too short. But, she had spent it well, and Patrick was determined that his boys would be able to say the same.

Hard work, dedication, persistence. Those were the values he'd tried to instill in his sons.

And David…David had made him proud. His oldest son had flourished, graduating from Harvard with honors. He'd taken his place at the company, and was rapidly moving up the corporate ladder. (Patrick refused to just hand success over to his sons. That, they'd have to earn.) He had no doubt that he'd be able to name David as an equal-shareholder and partner within just a few, short years.

But John…Patrick simply didn't understand where he'd gone wrong with his youngest. After graduation, John had actually talked about enrolling at Stanford, of all places, and then before Patrick had been able to talk him out of that foolishness, he'd been accepted to the Air Force Academy.

The Air Force. Patrick shook his head. His son could do so much better than that, was capable of so much more. A career in the military was respectable perhaps, but it wouldn't lead anywhere. John would be sent to the far-flung reaches of the globe, fighting battles that weren't his own, all his talent and potential wasted. He'd told his son as much, forbidden him to go.

"_You can't be serious about this! I'm disappointed in you, John."_

"_Yeah, well, what's new?"_

_The flippant answer snapped Patrick's already brittle patience with his youngest._

"_You're not going, and that's final! No son of mine will throw his life away!"_

_John's jaw clenched, something flashing in the depths of his eyes before defiance and resolve took its place. _"_I don't care what you think. I'm going."_

John hadn't backed down, and he'd left for the Academy that Fall. He'd come home a few times that first year, but each visit had simply ended in another heated argument, and eventually, he'd stopped coming home altogether, until his graduation.

Patrick had breathed a sigh of relief then, hoping now that his son had this nonsense out of his system, he'd finally take the place Patrick had saved for him in the company.

But he didn't, and Patrick had been horrified when John had told him that he planned to go on to flight school and had made an eight year commitment to the Air Force - _eight years. _He would ship out for his first tour of duty when he completed his training.

Patrick had been livid.

They'd argued again, the shouting loud enough that one of the stable-hands had come to the house to make sure everything was alright. _Alright?_ Patrick scoffed silently. _Far from it. _He son was wasting his life, and refused to see it. Frankly, Patrick had given up. Maybe a few years of military service really was what John needed. It would at least drill some discipline into him, and hopefully some _sense_ as well.

When John realized just what he was giving up, Patrick thought, when he saw the inevitable, miserable road his choices would lead him down, he'd come back.

Only, he hadn't. Not really.

The Lieutenant who'd finally returned from his first tour of duty wasn't the son Patrick remembered. And he wasn't bitter and disillusioned. He was harder, sharper…sadder as well, more solemn…but filled with a purpose Patrick had never seen in him before.

When the inevitable argument had started, John hadn't been a wild, rebellious teen anymore, but a man, a man with a controlled, steel-like edge that now served as a reminder of the soldier he'd become.

That had shaken Patrick. He hadn't known how to deal with his son as a rebellious teen…what was he supposed to do with a soldier?

The argument this time had been quieter, but somehow more intense. John's resolve, it seemed, had been honed, too. Once again, Patrick had brought up the company, and John had just sat there rigidly, his gaze unflinching.

"_I have a duty to my country, to my unit, to my-"_

"_What about your duty to this family?"_

"_You don't need me, Dad. You never have."_

"_And you think the Air Force needs you? You're expendable to them, John! Just another soldier, nothing else!"_

_John just looked at him for a long moment, then shook his head. _"_You don't understand."_

John was right, he didn't understand. He didn't understand how his son could be so ridiculously bull-headed, and not see the bleak future in front of him, when Patrick could see it laid out in stunning detail.

His son would languish in the ranks, being promoted only if he somehow managed to gain the attention of a commanding officer. He'd be shipped from base to base, country to country, until a lifetime had passed, and he'd have nothing to show for it.

But, like before, Patrick hadn't been able to make him realize that. Then, once again, John had left.

Long, silent months had followed, months that had somehow turned into a year, and a year into two, but finally, a Captain Sheppard returned home. And he hadn't returned alone.

Nancy was a lovely young woman, with an air of self-confidence that was impossible to miss. She was graceful, intelligent, and charming, and it was plain to see that John was head over heels for her. Patrick approved, happy that his son was finally making a good decision, and perhaps, he hoped, John was finally beginning to consider a future outside of the military. He still wanted his son to be more than a simple family man, but it was certainly a good place to start.

He had offered to pay for the wedding, but John had stubbornly turned him down, insisting that he and Nancy were planning to marry in the Air Force Academy's chapel. That had almost lead to another argument, but Patrick had held his tongue and bowed to his son's wishes. He wanted to encourage him, after all, not push him in the opposite direction.

After the marriage, Patrick had resigned himself to waiting, knowing it would take time for John to feel the pull of a quiet life, to settle down and start a family.

That hadn't happened.

The years had slipped by once more, his son had remained in the Air Force, and Patrick had gotten a call from Nancy telling him that she was asking John for a divorce. The news had been a hard blow, but maybe, Patrick had dared to hope, it would be enough to finally, _finally_ make John see reason. But instead, he'd let Nancy go.

A month after the divorce, Major John Sheppard renewed his commission, and accepted a tour of duty in Afghanistan.

The argument this time had gone on for hours.

"_You renewed your commission? Do you realize what the Air Force has cost you? Your home, your wife, your future-"_

_John flinched, but when he answered, his gaze was steady. _"_It's my choice, not yours."_

"_And you're making the wrong one! I won't just stand back and let you waste your life!"_

"_It's not a waste. It's worth it. All of it." _

_Patrick shook his head in disbelief. _"_Your mother would never have wanted this for you!"_

_Pain flickered across John's features, but they hardened a second later. _"_You mean that _you_ don't want this for me."_

"_You're right, I don't! This is ridiculous, John! And if you expect to remain a part of this family-"_

_The look on John's face brought Patrick up short. A long moment passed, then John turned around, moved back to his bed, and kept packing._

Four years later, Patrick hadn't heard anything from him, not even the rare phone calls or letters he'd gotten in the past. David hadn't heard anything from him either, and Patrick felt a stab regret at that. His sons' relationship had always been strained, and Patrick knew he was at least partly to blame. David had agreed with him instead of siding with his brother. But, Patrick reminded himself, John had made his own choices - he'd been very clear about that - and choices had consequences, consequences John would have to face someday, when he returned.

In the meantime, Patrick had a business to run.

The most pressing matter at hand was a meeting with a man named George Bryans, the CEO of a small but promising company who was interested in pursuing a joint venture with one of Patrick's subsidiaries. He could have sent someone else in his place, Patrick supposed, but he'd always preferred to handle such things himself.

The meeting had been informal, but it had gone well, and George had introduced Patrick to his son, Andrew. Patrick had liked the polite young man right away, and had been glad to accept George and Andrew's invitation to lunch.

"_So, what is it that you do, Andrew?" Patrick asked as they sat at their table, waiting for their orders to be filled. "Are you planning to follow your father into business?"_

"_Maybe. After my next tour is up."_

_Patrick frowned. "You're in the military?"_

"_Army Rangers. Dad told me that you have a son in the service, too."_

_Patrick stiffened a little, but he managed to nod. "He's a Major in the Air Force."_

_Andrew, looked up, startled._ "_What is his first name?"_

"_John."_

"_Major John Sheppard is your son?"_

_Patrick blinked, caught off-guard. _"_You know him?"_

"_Yes, sir. I thought your last name was just a coincidence. He saved my life."_

"_He…he did?"_

"_Yes, sir. My unit was ambushed by Taliban fighters. I was hit by a stray round. Major Sheppard flew his chopper in under fire to get me out." The young soldier looked down, his voice growing softer. "I have a daughter. Her name is Jordan. She was born a couple years ago, after I got home. If Major Sheppard hadn't…" He paused, drawing a deep breath, his gaze meeting Patrick's once more. "I owe him a lot, sir. Thank you." _

_Patrick had to swallow back the lump in his throat as Andrew stood respectfully and shook his hand._

That night, Patrick sat in his study, a half empty glass of Scotch resting in front of him. There was work to be done, contracts he needed to look over, calls he had to make, but instead his eyes kept drifting to the picture on his desk, the last one they'd had taken before Margaret had passed. John had just turned nine, and David had been just a few months shy of twelve. It was almost hard to recognize them; the two carefree, smiling boys in the picture didn't seem to bear much resemblance to his two, grown sons. But the resemblance was there, he realized, if you looked hard enough.

David's smile was happy, but carried a polite, formal edge, a shadow of the ever-composed business man he'd become. John's smile was more of a grin, and his eyes were full of mischief, as wild as that untamable hair of his, his head tilted at an odd angle from everyone else, just to be contrary. And if that didn't say it all about his youngest son, Patrick didn't know what could.

His gaze stayed on the picture as he took a drink of his Scotch, listening to the ice clink against the glass.

His son had saved a man's life.

Something tightened in Patrick's chest, and he closed his eyes, setting the glass back down on his desk.

"_You don't understand," _John had said once.

And he hadn't. But, maybe now…he did.

He would call John, Patrick decided suddenly. He would call John and ask him…and ask him to come home, so they could talk.

He reached for his phone.

After three hours of speaking to Air Force staffers who couldn't tell him anything beyond the fact that John was no longer stationed in the Middle East - Patrick's call had finally been transferred to Peterson Air Force base.

"Sir, I'm afraid that Major Sheppard is currently unreachable."

"Unreachable," Patrick repeated. "What exactly do you mean by 'unreachable'?"

"Communication with him is impossible at this time."

"I see," Patrick returned flatly. "And where is my son now?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but that's classified."

Patrick sat back in his chair, stunned. "Classified?" Just what had John gotten himself involved in?

"Yes, sir. But you can leave a message for him here, and in the event that communication is re-established, he will be notified. Do you wish to leave a message for him?"

"I…" Patrick hesitated, his mind reeling. _"…in the event that communication is re-established…" _Had John accepted a mission he might not be coming back from? Why hadn't he said anything? Why hadn't he called? Did he really think that his father wouldn't care if he…

"Sir?"

Patrick's chest tightened again.

"No," he managed finally. "No, I won't leave a message. I…I'll wait."

He gave the man his thanks - an ingrained habit after so many years in business - and hung up, the dial tone sounding loudly in his ear.

His gaze fell on the picture again, and this time, an image of John in uniform seemed imposed over the image of his smiling little boy. The feeling of loss crept up unexpectedly, taking Patrick by surprise, and he tried to push it away.

John would be back, Patrick told himself.

He would.

The next three years passed quickly, and a declining market, concerned shareholders, and a jumpy board kept him occupied. Patrick wasn't worried. He'd weathered storms with the company before, and he'd weather this one as well.

And, in a way, he welcomed the hectic schedule. It left little time for regretting things it was too late to change.

In the quiet moments though, his eyes would drift back to that picture, and he'd wonder where John was now, if he was alright…or if one day, he'd open the door and see a soldier standing there, bringing the news that his son had been killed in action.

Other times, Patrick would find himself reaching for the old, yellow legal-pad he kept in a drawer, and he'd flip through the pages until he found the numbers he'd written down that night, _Peterson Air Force Base_ hastily scribbled beneath.

He could never quite bring himself to pick up the phone again though, to dial those numbers. Maybe he was still too stubborn, too proud. Or maybe, he was just afraid.

Late one night, when he felt a vice clamp down hard around his chest, and realized too late what it meant, Patrick wondered, if he had left a message…would John have answered?

He would never know.

**Fin**

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A/N: Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think. :)

Take care and God bless!

Ani-maniac494 :)


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